


Tincture

by reclav



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reclav/pseuds/reclav
Summary: Just because Vicente can't enjoy a cup of tea, doesn't mean his companion cannot.
Relationships: Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Vicente Valtieri
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Tincture

**Author's Note:**

> just a little thought. the idea for mushroom tea comes from a tes blogger's headcanon for dunmer teas and the idea of a mushroom tea sounds intriguing, esp considering the wide variety that might be available throughout the land, esp in vvardenfell.

Vicente feels strong arms around his waist, and a chin rests on his shoulder.

"Welcome home, Pallas."

Pallas hums, and squeezes Vicente lightly.

"I've been away too long. Forgive me."

"Not so long. Only a few days, and they sent you to traverse half of Cyrodiil." Vicente tilts his head back and sighs as he feels Pallas press feather light kisses to his skin.

"It feels so long when I'm away from you. Like weeks on end. The skies all look the same, the mountains and valleys turn into an infinite landscape."

"You haven't been taking care of yourself again. What have you been up to, my gift?" Vicente turns his head slightly to face Pallas as best he can, and the Dunmer averts his eyes as he goes to sit down in Vicente's armchair.

"Vicente," Pallas starts, voice strained.

"Pallas," Vicente responds. His tone is smooth and even, and Pallas looks up at him. Vicente's eternally calm exterior, betrayed by the slight furrow of his brow, the beginnings of a scowl accentuated by his lips stretching over his fangs. A cool, clawed finger traces up Pallas' jaw, and Pallas unwittingly leans into the touch.

"What was it this time," Vicente whispers soothingly, as he continues to stroke and pet Pallas, drawing closer to him, before he lets Pallas rest his head on his belly, and Pallas' arms hug round his hips. "What was it?"

His persuasion is well practiced from centuries of coaxing victims into the shadows, but it is used for different purposes with Pallas. Coaxing him into shadows too, but these ones full of the promise of a dark, comforting embrace, with the spoken word, the rare truth spilling from his lips, unashamed, freely.

"I… the Oblivion gates that've been opening. You've seen them, yes?"

"Of course I have." Vicente isn't quite sure where this is going, but if Pallas has been entering the realms of Daedric princes unasked, it could be quite dangerous territory.

"I've been… well, I've been going into them. Each one I've come across, and each one I close, but every time…" Pallas stops and takes a deep breath. "Every time, I just feel more exhausted. Distracted, strange. Time has started to bleed together, I couldn't recognize myself-"

"Shh," Vicente strokes his cheek with the backs of his knuckles, and Pallas stops shuddering. A touch of vampiric influence never hurt.

Pallas smiles against his hip. "Thanks. I needed that, I think."

"So you're our little hero of Kvatch, are you?"

"Don't… don't tell Ocheeva. Don't tell anyone, for that matter."

"Your secret is safe with me. But you should know better than going into so many gates without breaks. The planes of Oblivion are meant to torture and drain every aspect of you- your physicality, your essences, your mind." Vicente laces his words carefully with the threads of enthrallment, and steps away from Pallas, to stoke the fires of his alchemical brazier, and pour water from a pitcher into a cast iron kettle. 

Down from a shelf, he retrieves a large wooden box filled with small glass jars, and with deft movements, he dips a small scoop into the different containers, and drops the spoonfuls into the pot as it begins to boil.

"Pallas, how do you take your tea?"

Pallas, unaware that Vicente had moved away until the threads fell away, looks up at him with heavily lidded eyes.

The sudden exhaustion begins to set in, finally returning to the sanctuary seemed to forcibly smash his body together with his mental state, the sheer strain of sleep tugging at his body too much. 

"I… whatever's fine."

"Honey, perhaps?" Vicente lifts the kettle off the coals and sets it on the stone counter. He retrieves a clay cup from the same shelf as the box, which has each jar neatly returned to its place. He pours the tea into the cup, and places it on the desk besides Pallas, who watches it steam quietly. Little petals drift in the amber colored water.

"What's in it?"

Vicente smiles, showing off his many pairs of fangs.

"Nothing that won't hurt you."

Pallas shakes his head. He eyes the steaming liquid carefully, before taking the cup in his hands. He sighs as he inhales the familiar scent of sweet mushroom tea.

"Ah, it's been ages since… I've had something like this."

"It's the last bit of it, I've kept it since I came from Vvardenfell. Absolutely ancient stuff." Vicente sighs happily. "I can't ever taste it again, but I'm glad it brings you comfort."

Pallas takes a careful sip, and even though it slightly scalds his tongue, he takes a deep breath, content.

"Guess it hasn't changed much. It tastes like what I'd get at the cornerclubs during dinner, when I was studying in Mournhold." He smiles wistfully.

"Many things stay the same." Vicente watches Pallas drink his cup slowly. He hasn't tasted sweet mushroom tea in so long either.

Pallas sets the empty cup down.

"I hope that helped. A drink of any kind is just what one needs after an experience like running a gauntlet of Oblivion gates across Cyrodiil. I do hope you finished Ocheeva's task, in between those."

"Of course I did." Pallas closes his eyes, and tips his head back. "Are you sure you didn't put anything else in there? I'm exhausted."

"No," Vicente says, before taking the cup and setting it down amongst used vials and flasks to be washed later. "Just dried sweet mushrooms, chamomile, and honeysuckle. But it's a wonder what a good cup of tea can do to the nerves." He returns to Pallas, and cups his face in his hands before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Pallas smiles. His face warms up at the feeling of Vicente's lips on his skin, his hand on his jaw. 

"Thank you."

"For what? I've tasked myself with ensuring you don't run yourself into the ground." Vicente tucks a lock of hair behind Pallas' ear. He strokes a finger along its length, to its fine pointed tip and back, and Pallas shivers. "Don't thank me for anything. If anything, I thank you for being here. For giving me a chance. For looking past what most find...absolutely monstrous." Vicente toys with the end of one of his wind braids.

"That monstrosity is part of your beauty, Vicente."

"As is yours." Vicente gazes into his eyes, misty quartz pink meeting rich ruby red. He leans in close, until he can feel Pallas' breath on his lips, and he kisses him chastely at first, eyes falling closed.

And as they kiss, Vicente can taste the sweetness of the past on his lips, for the first time in decades.


End file.
